Page 52 of Daddies on Ice
I keep walking. “What.”
“We need to figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.” My voice is steady, though inside I’m anything but. “Carl made his decision.”
“We can change his mind.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “You know him better than me, and even I can tell he’s not going to give on this one.”
I won’t tell Jake or Ash that Carl did give me a way out. I don’t think he wanted them to know he felt a bit guilty for painting me into a corner.
Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair. “So we’re just supposed to fake it? Smile for the cameras and pretend we’re playing house?”
“That’s exactly what we’re supposed to do.”
His eyes cut toward me, sharp and restless. “You really think anyone’s gonna buy it? Everyone knows I don’t stick around. The whole damn world knows.”
We reach my door. My hand closes over the handle, ready to shut the night out and lock myself away.
But Jake leans closer, his voice dropping low, right against my ear. “Then we’d better make them see what they expect. We’ve gotta sell it.”
I turn my head toward him, ready to argue, but his next words freeze me.
“If we’re gonna pretend, we’ve gotta make it look real.”
The air between us thickens, charged with something dangerous.
My pulse hammers so hard it hurts.
He’s close enough that I catch the scent of him—clean soap, faint cologne, and something sharper underneath that’s just Jake. My throat goes dry.
His mouth brushes my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Starting now.”
I look up at him, and it’s a mistake. His eyes catch mine, holding me there, green and burning with an intensity I’ve never seen before.
There’s no smirk this time, no cocky shield.
Just heat. My chest tightens.
The sharp angles of his jaw stand out under the hall light with shadow brushing over his cheekbones.
A lock of hair falls forward, and I desperately want to reach up and push it away.
He’s unfairly handsome—tall, broad, every line of him built for power and speed.
I’ve always known it, but seeing him this close I understand why women fall for him even when they swear they won’t.
My back presses into the door. Nowhere left to go, and still he steps closer, caging me in with his body.
I can feel the warmth rolling off him, the tension in his shoulders, the restraint in the way his hand hovers near my arm but doesn’t touch.
My breath trips, uneven, as I search his face for some hint of a joke. There isn’t one.
Before I can move, before I can even think, his lips crash against mine.
18
TISH
